Connect
by tapioca two-step
Summary: Neil angrily goes about his day, as usual. Written for the Short and Sweet prompt on The Village Square Forum. ANB Neil/Rio.


Connect

* * *

"Yo, you heard that Rio's dog is missing, right?"

Neil looked over from where he was setting up his booth for the day. The name _Rio_ made his stomach flip unpleasantly. "No."

"Yeah." Rod leaned both elbows on his own counter. "She was playing fetch with it in the western woods and it went after a deer and hasn't been back. She's been all over Echo asking if people's seen it."

Neil shrugged and went back to work. "Hope she finds it."

"That's all you're gonna say? I thought you'd be more concerned."

Neil settled back against his supply wagon and crossed his arms, looking at the pet salesman with a scowl. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

Rod's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, nothing, if you don't want. I just thought, y'know, you being an animal lover and all, you'd want to know so you could help."

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't want my help."

Rod rolled his eyes. "Just because you guys are exes doesn't mean you can't do the neighborly thing and help her look for her dog."

Neil flushed red as his overcoat and turned away stonily. "How about, if I see it, I'll give it to you and you can give it to her. Saves me the trouble of having to talk to her."

"Deal," Rod laughed. "It's a pain in the ass working with you sometimes, you know that?"

"I could say the same about you."

* * *

It was uncomfortably cold outside. Up to his ankles in snow, with no customers for miles—because, really, Rio had been his only regular—Neil's sour mood fermented as the hours wore on. He couldn't believe she had been so careless as to lose her pet. If they were still together—but, no. That was over. _They_ were over.

She'd said it was because he was too unforgiving, too harsh, and too gloomy. He'd said she was too distant, too distracted, and too sensitive. He wanted more time, but she said, "We just didn't _connect."_

They hadn't spoken for weeks. He still saw her around Echo—the cobalt blue bun bobbing as she ran from house to house, visiting neighbors or delivering farm products—but she gave him, and his house, and his stall, a wide berth.

He wanted to apologize. He just didn't know for what.

The sun arced overhead, distant and pale yellow, barely warm enough to stave off the chill in the air. By the time five o'clock had arrived, Rod had sold thirty bags of pet food, some animal medicine, and two cats.

And Neil had made up his mind to look for Rio's dog.

* * *

 _It's not like I really care about patching things over with her._ Neil thought as he kicked through snowdrifts. _She told me she was done. I'm just doing this to get her back as a customer. I can't go another week without selling something._

He was in the woods west of Echo Village, with a handful of pet food (courtesy of Rod) in one pocket and a leash in the other. The trees cast long, dark shadows in the setting sun, and the wind, already cold, became bitter and biting. He hunched his shoulders against it and buried his chin in the collar of his shirt.

 _And I've got to give her hell for not caring enough about her dog, and make sure that she never loses it again. Of all the irresponsible, stupid things she could do…._

He shook his head, ducking under low-hanging tree branches. She wasn't irresponsible. She worked the hardest out of everyone in the village. She was probably just exhausted trying to get her farm in shape for the coming spring. She just never asked for help when she needed it. She never depended on him like he wanted her to.

Hell, he should just give up right now. The dog would come back eventually. Dogs usually did.

But then he remembered the sparkle in her eyes when Rod had first shown the puppy to her, and how she'd crooned over it, and how he'd thought that the sight of her walking away with the dog draped over her shoulder, patting its rump and singing to it, was heart-meltingly sweet. It was something _he'd_ do.

 _I'll show you, Rio,_ he thought, plunging through the snow, his expression almost furious. _I'll be so goddamn dependable that you're going to regret breaking up with me. We connected. I know we did._

The sun was fully down now, and the purple sky above him gave him no light to navigate by. He dug a pen light out of his pocket and aimed it into the darkness.

"C'mere buddy!" he whistled. "I know you're out here! You don't have to be scared. You know my voice, right? Come on back home!" _C'mon, c'mon, how hard is it to find a black dog in the snow?_

He searched the woods for what seemed like hours. His legs were caked all the way up to his thighs in snow. The cold wind had reduced his voice to a harsh rasp. His teeth chattered so much that it became impossible for him to whistle, so he intermittently clapped his numb hands instead.

 _In a little while they're probably going to have to come looking for me, too,_ he thought with a wry smile, and disappeared deeper into the woods.

* * *

It was after midnight when Rio heard a knock at her door.

She'd fallen asleep on her couch, next to her phone— _just in case someone calls and says they found him._ Her nose was clogged and her eyes were red and puffy. Wiping her face with her sleeve, she went to her door and opened it.

Neil stood on her front stoop, quaking with cold, glaring at her, one arm wrapped protectively against something bundled within his coat.

Her eyes misted over. "Neil," she whispered, holding out her hands.

He placed the dog into her arms.

* * *

 _So the ffdotnet counter says this story is 1,042 words long, but my Word counter says it's 999 words long. derp._


End file.
